Last night I went to the Team Canada gather at the Duke of York. Am I on Team Canada? Well, don't you think you'd know about it if I were? I just wanted to knit in a group, and I can't do any of the mid-week stitch n' bitches. I figured that if it was lame, I'd just leave early and never come back. I mostly knit alone anyway.

It was a near thing as we got close to the wire. The Boy was late returning the car, and my brother desperately needed a ride to the ju-jitsu gym, where he was teaching a class already in progress. I jammed some knitting into my Wool of Bat purse and ran out the door, dodging angry queries from my parents. (It's none of your damn business, that's where I'm going!!) When I got to the bar, I discovered 4 needles instead of 5. I'm operating on the theory that I only packed 4, but it was real dark up there. I might have dropped a needle under the table as I pulled out the bootie.

As I bolted in out of the rain, I realized that I'd been here before at least twice (oddly enough, both times with Preacher). People were panting to get in, but all I had to say was, "I'm with the knitters" and the hostess made way with a smile. Awesome.

I was a little flustered once I'd arrived, as I'd forgotten that

1. I'm an introvert, and
2. I didn't know anyone there.

Fortunately, there was an empty seat near Jen, and I found myself quickly drawn into a ribald conversation about aging virgins and reconstruction fibre arts. ("How do you say nipple in French, Jen?" "Who cares, just lick it!") Turned out that I knew a girl at my table; she was the one rubbing brandy on her daughter's gums at Opera Sarah's baby bath. Seeing that she was trying to reconstruct Viking knitting, I made a shrewd guess that she was involved with Beithgrove's Baby on Board D&D campaign.

"It's at my house," she confirmed. Heh.

I had a helluva good time and stayed up way too late. I was very surprised when the women started to coo over my wee completed bootie. Because shit, I was in an elite grouping of Toronto knitters; did anyone even bat an eyelash at a basic bootie in Koigu? I underestimated the cuteness factor - everybody wanted to touch it and trill of its adorability. Even (and although I tried hard to think of her without the heroic epithet, I just couldn't) Amy R. Singer, editrix of Knitty. I sat across from ARS, eoK for half the night, and I even told her my dumb drinking story about almost sliding under a car. I also got to flip through ARS, eoK's copy of Magical Knitting while my needles were in use. When ARS, eoK passed around a bag of foil-wrapped eggs and told me to take more than one, I immediately capitulated. Because you don't refuse chocolate when Amy R. Singer, editrix of Knitty, is egging you on. (hee. egging.)

About my needles being in use, I was knitting the sole of the second bootie when a party from Lettuce Knit came in and a woman sat down beside me. "You should be knitting," they commander her, but she had nothing with which to knit. So in the spirit of knitting sisterhood, I lent her my two spare needles and offered her some Koigu. We figured it would be like a zen sand painting: she'd knit it up and then unravel it. While she knit, we talked about getting kids to knit and the importance of taxes. It was fun, even when I finished my sole and had to stop the bootie because my needles were in use. Then she picked up some side stitches on my sole. I'll have to put her name in the card, just as soon as I learn it (Annie? I think it was Annie.)

I don't think I've enjoyed a party quite that much in ages. The talk was incessant, encompassing everything from babies to sex to math to professional programs to...oh hell, I don't know what else. I only had one pint, but it worked on me all night long, banishing all doubt and allowing me to talk like my tongue was on fire. It was like the Stranger on the Bus phenomenon and Baby Club and Stitch n' Bitch, all rolled into one glorious multi-coloured ball of yarn.

I will definitely be competing in 2008.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 4/08/2006 07:42:00 p.m.